


Disarm You With A Smile

by SpicyCheese



Category: D.E.B.S. (2004), Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: College AU too I guess, F/F, F/M, Humor, Multi, Person of Interest/ D.E.B.S crossover, and they're all college aged so yes, basically crack, because it's sort of Spy college, dear lord what have I done???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3569897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyCheese/pseuds/SpicyCheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Person of Interest/ D.E.B.S crossover.</p><p>Root, a self-made international criminal Mastermind (she's never been a fan of the term <i> Supervillain </i> ), thinks she has everything she wants. A life of crime can get a bit lonely though, so her best friend and second-in-command took it upon herself to sign Root up for VillianMingle, an dating site for the <i> less-than-morally-inclined </i> to meet. </p><p>It's not until one of those blind dates is interrupted- by those meddling D.E.B.S, no less- that Root meets someone she thinks she might <i> really </i> be into...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

*_*_*_*_*

Prologue

_There is a secret test hidden within the SAT._

_This test does not measure a student’s aptitude at reading, writing, and arithmetic._

_It measures a student’s innate ability to lie, cheat, fight, and kill._

_Those that do well are recruited into a secret paramilitary academy._

_Some call them seductresses. Some call them spies. Fools call them innocent._

_They call themselves **D.E.B.S.**_

 

*_*_*_*_*

Shaw wakes up to the sound of screaming.

She’s already on her feet, gun in hand, and half way to the door of the room before she recognizes where- and who- it’s coming from.

Shaw rolls her eyes and storms out the room and into the hallway where an all-too- familiar scene awaits: Martine banging on the bathroom door, screaming for Zoe to hurry up so she can get ready.

“ _Martine_...” Shaw begins, growling at the blonde.

“ _Save it, Shaw!_ If she didn’t take so goddamn long, I wouldn’t _have_ to scream!” The blonde bites back.

Any further ranting is cut off though, as the bathroom door opens. Zoe strolls out slowly, sporting a wicked smirk, drawling “Bathroom’s all yours, M...” as she passes.

Martine huffs as she hurries inside, making sure to slam the bathroom door _extra hard_ after she enters. The sound reverberates through Shaw, who can feel the dull throb of a headache starting to form behind her eyes, as she makes her way back to her own room to get ready for the day.

This is NOT what she signed up for.

When she was recruited for D.E.B.S three years ago she wasn’t sure what she expected, but she was pretty sure it didn’t include dealing with roommates fighting over bathroom time at ungodly hours in the morning.

When Shaw was first approached about the program, she wasn’t necessarily surprised. She had always known she was different, but it came into stark focus since her father’s death. A lot of "professionals" had bestowed many labels on her over the years, but Shaw's 9th grade psychology textbook led her to the DSM, which led her to the words “axis II personality disorder” and she knew right away that was as close as she was going to get to answers.

Given that, it didn’t surprise her that an spy agency would be interested in someone _like her_. Someone with those traits ( _or lack of certain  traits_ ). What did surprise her is when they told her she’d gotten a “perfect score” on their secret enterence test. Shaw had always been a bright student, attentive to her studies, but it made no sense for her to score so well on something she didn't even know she was taking.

To this day, no one has been able to tell her what exactly a "perfect score" means, but it must be important because when she finally did arrive at the D.E.B.S training facility, people treated her with _The Girl Who Lived_ type notoriety.

From the jump, it was clear to her that _Spy College_ (as Control has pitched it to her those years ago) was a lot more _college_ work and a lot less _spy_ work. While some of their work let them detain criminals, as trainees the bulk of what they did was actually just surveillance and gathering intel. AKA, boring-ass stakeouts and reports.

Oh and then there were the rules. So many rules! Shaw assumed being a spy would be more about _bringing evil to justice at whatever cost_ , and much less about following rules and protocol.

Or paperwork.

Or fucking _team camaraderie_.

Or all the time-wasting ridiculousness that got in the way of actually _DOING_ something productive.

Oh and she _definitely_ didn’t sign up for the dumb uniform.

Shaw continues to stew on this as she moves about her room, completing her morning routine. She is quick to get ready under normal conditions, but when she catches a whiff of bacon wafting up the stairs from the kitchen, she starts moving double-time. After three failed tries to get her necktie right, she gives up, draping it around her shoulders to be dealt with later.

By the time she makes her way downstairs, Zoe and Martine have settled into a semi-peaceable silence and are finishing up breakfast. Shaw’s eyes settle on each of their cereal bowls and she sniffs the air again. “Bacon?”

Zoe takes a short sip from her coffee before gesturing to the stove. “Joss left you some food over there. She had to leave early to meet up with her _buddy_ ,” The brunette’s lips curl into a smirk after the word, and Martine, across the table sniggers as well.

Shaw rolls her eyes in agreement, before making a b-line for the stove. She sends up a silent thank you to Joss as she sees not only a PILE of bacon, but 2 chocolate chip pancakes, on a plate waiting for her. She joins the others at the table, and wonders what kind of business Joss had with Reese this early in the morning.

Oh, and that was another thing she most definitely did _NOT_ sign up for: The Merger.

Despite D.E.B.S being one of the most effective of the covert, counter-terrorist training programs/agencies, the fact remained that they were still a very small organization. Consequently earlier this year, “due to budget cuts” they were forced to begin sharing their school and training facilities with their all-male, brother program C.A.L.S. They dubbed this process “The Merger”.

Needless to say, there was a small revolt amongst the D.E.B.S student body who, as a whole, did not want to have anything to do with C.A.L.S. So, in order to foster “a spirit of collaboration” the head of each program paired senior trainees with a member from the other agency to serve as examples to the rest of the students. They called the pairs “ambassadors of good will”, the hope being to use this thinly veiled equivalent of the buddy system to create automatic sense of integration.

Mostly what it did was piss everyone off.

In fact, no one on Shaw’s team was particularly thrilled. Zoe got paired with some total ass-hat named Elias, who might just be the only C.A.L.S trainee more manipulative than Zoe herself. Martine got paired with a wet-noodle named Lambert, who pretty much avoids her like the plague rather than risk losing a limb if he upset her. Joss got paired with some goodie-goodie, wannabie-CIA lunk named Reese, who apparently was so needy that he was forever calling Joss to meet him and go over some protocol or piece of homework or another.

And then there was _her_ C.A.L.S buddy...

“Shaw, it’s 7:45, we gotta go. We’re meeting Control in 15...” Zoe’s light reminder, thankfully, interrupts her thoughts. Shaw nods in acknowledgement and shovels the last of her pancakes in her mouth before falling in step behind her two roommates as they head out the door.

 

*_*_*_*_*

 

Joss met them at Control’s office and the team of four entered at 8 o’clock on the dot. They settled in chairs around the room, and Control (she’s never given anyone another name to call her by) barely acknowledges them with a nod before switching off the lights, turning their attention to projector board behind her, and launching into her presentation.

“Ladies, we have a situation. After nearly 2 years of silence, the supervillain known as Root, has resurfaced.”

Zoe gasped, Martine made a noise somewhere between a growl and a gulp, and Joss simply asked, “Who’s Root?”

Shaw smirks- Joss was only a 2nd year, so she had no reason to know this particular target. “I’m doing my thesis on her,” she says, leaning over and answering her teammate’s question.

Control levels her gaze at Joss and clicks through to the next slide showing a variety of statistics and an extensive list of known and suspected crimes. “The supervillain known as Root emerged as a sort of Jane-of-all-trades style criminal for hire in the late 90’s. While she specializes in cybercrimes and hacking, she has been implicated in multitude of other crimes ranging from fraud, embezzlement, political sabotage, theft, arson and murder.”

Control flips to the next slide showing a slightly grainy, surveillance camera photo of a young woman. Shaw is more than familiar with this photo by now, considering the woman has been the enigmatic subject of Shaw’s capstone project for the last year. The subject of the black and white photo is looking up, directly into the camera, and smirking- knowing full well she’s on camera and not giving a shit about it.

Something about that smirk brings Shaw to rage almost every time she sees it.

Control presses on. “There is no discernible pattern to her crimes and she has managed to remain a mystery to most law enforcement agencies around the world.” Control pauses to turn on the lights again. Shaw and her teammates blink at the harsh light, as their leader continues. “The plain fact is this: No one who has personally encountered Root, has lived to tell the tale.”

Control clicks off her presentation and sit at her desk across from the four D.E.B.S. “We’ve recently received intelligence that Root has set up a meeting this evening with a notorious Russian assassin named Oksana Zhirova. The details of the meeting location are in the dossier here,” Control hands the folder in question to Zoe- their team leader- and continues. “You are to observe, and gather intelligence ONLY. You are _not_ to engage the subject in any way. This means no _capture and torture_ -“ she glares at Martine as she says this, “OR kneecapping,” she adds, now glaring at Shaw. “Understood?” Both D.E.B.S sigh, disappointed, but nod in agreement. “Excellent. Good luck ladies. That will be all.”

The four women exit the office and as soon as the door is closed, Zoe turns sharply to her crew. "Okay ladies, let's get ready. I don't care if Control is assigning us to JUST gather intel- I want us prepared for _anything_ when it comes to Root. Shaw- you and Joss hit up the armory. I want us stocked like we're getting ready storm Normandy. Martine and I will grab the surveillance gear and _borrow_ the restaurant's building schematics. Meet at the house at 1500 so we can plan. Got it? Good."

Shaw moves immediately, setting a quick enough walking pace that Joss has to jog a few steps in order to catch up. "Geez," Joss begins, glancing back over her shoulder towards where they left their teammates. "This Root woman has everyone really on edge. Is she really that bad?"

Shaw stops walking, causing Joss to pause too. "Root is, without a doubt, one of the most cruel, calculating and _merciless_ criminals the world has ever seen. She is shows no remorse and won't let anything get in the way of something she wants."

"Whoa. That's... sick. She sounds like a psychopath. Is that why you chose to do your thesis on her?"

Something flashes across Shaw's face, but it's gone so fast Joss feels she may have imagined it. Shaw's expression hardens though, and instead of answering, she turns away, and continues walking. "Come on, we can't waste any more time..." Joss catches up again and they both make their way to the armory.

 

*_*_*_*_*

 

“Get your ass up. You have a date tonight.”

 _“What?”_ Root drops what she's doing and spins her wing backed office chair around to face her best friend.

"You heard me," Hanna levels. "I'm tired of your excuses. You're always saying you're _'too busy'_ -"

"- _Hey!_ I was in the middle of rigging the election in North Carolina that weekend and-"

"-or that there isn't anyone who will ' _understand'_ you. It's bullshit and I'm calling it."

"Hanna, I'm an international criminal mastermind. It's not like there's a dating website for _that!"_ Root throws her hands up in the air, frustrated, before slumping down in her chair.

"Actually, there is. It's called VillainMingle and I've already signed you up, made a profile, and arranged for a date for you through it. And that date is tonight." Hanna crosses her arms, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

"No. Just... no. Absolutely not..." Root shakes her head dismissively before spinning her chair again until she was facing the control panel once more. "The last thing I need," she begins, fiddling with nobs and examining the monitors in front of her, "is some clingy troglodyte _,_ taking my attention and time away from my projects and calling me all the time or... whatever. No. There’s absolutely no way I’m going on a _blind date_."

“Sam...”

Root’s hands still at the word and the weariness in her friend's voice. She knows Hanna only uses her given name when it’s important, so Root slowly turns her chair back around to face her friend once more.

With Root's attention restored, Hanna continues. “Listen, I worry about you. Lately you've been completely..."

"Focused? Dedicated? Driven?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'an insufferable, moody bitch' but sure. Let's go with those." Hanna smirks for a moment before her expression softens again. "Look, you got dumped, okay? And yes, that sucks, but that was TWO YEARS AGO. You spend all your time now keeping yourself busy with schemes and plots but...” she sighs, “...I just think you’re a bit lost and a bit lonely."

Root crosses her arms, slouching down further in her seat. “I’m not lonely. I have you, don’t I?”

Hanna smiles. “Of _course_ you do, and we’ll always be best friends, but I'm talking about something different. I'm talking about _falling in love!_ Tell me you get that?"

Root snorts at this, looking to the side for a moment. When her eyes meet her friend's again- seeing the seriousness there- she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Yeah, I get it..."

"Root, It's time. It's time to pick yourself up, dust off, and get back out there.”

“Fine...” Root sighs. She untangles her arms, and letting them hang loose over the arm rests of the chair and smirks up at her friend. “And you really think I’m going to meet _The One_ or whatever, through an online dating site? Do you have any idea how terrible those ‘match making’ algorithms are? I mean, maybe I should do a little research on my own before I meet this mystery date first...” She moves roll the chair towards her laptop but Hanna throws a foot out, stopping her.

“Save it, you’re going. And who knows? Maybe you’ll hit it off with this woman. Either way, you need to _try_ at least.”

Root looks at her friend’s determined expression and realizes she’s beaten. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Good,” Hanna smirks, offering a hand to her friend, hoisting her out of the deep office chair. Once Root is standing, Hanna moves around behind her, placing two hands on the taller girl's back, pushing her gently towards the other room. "I have a few outfits laid out for you in the back room already, so go get ready. You’re meeting her in an hour...”

“Hmphft, and they say _I’m_ the mastermind?” Root grins, over her shoulder.

“Goooooo...” Hanna rolls her eyes and smiles, pushing her friend, with a bit more force, towards the other room.

 

*_*_*_*_*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, had to tweak things a bit from the original D.E.B.S plotline because I wanted a chance to fit more Team Machine characters in there (well, one in particular), and since many those characters are male... yeah. Anyway, the beginning is a bit pokey, but it'll pick up pretty quick. As always, all comments, questions, feedback, or whatever else are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

*_*_*_*_*

For the mission, the D.E.B.S team would need both audio and visual surveillance. The restaurant had cameras in the kitchen, back halls, basement and exterior, so they could tap into the video feeds for those areas. If they wanted to see what went on in the dining area though, they were going to need someone with eyes and ears directly on the target.

And that person was Shaw.

The decision was easy- Shaw preferred to work alone and, considering her less-than-sunny disposition when forced into something she doesn’t want to do, the team was okay with that too. So while Joss and Martine covered the exterior and Zoe watches the video feeds, Shaw makes her way to her own vantage point.

From the restaurant's building schematics, it was clear where she should set up. There is skylight on the roof, situated 30 feet directly above the dining room; The perfect spot to watch and listen. It was a nice night, dark and clear and just a little cool. She smirks to herself as she climbs up the fire escape on the side of the building. Shaw couldn't be more pleased at how this is turning out.

The feeling is short lived though. When she reaches the roof, she finds that her perfect spot is already occupied by literally the last person she wants to see right now.

"Hey Sunshine, come to watch the show? Glad to see I'm not the only one stuck in the nosebleed section."

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" Shaw growls.

Lionel Fusco leans against a brick wall next to the skylight, half a donut pinched between two fingers. "Whoa now. Is that anyway to talk to your fellow _Ambassador of Good Will_?" He pauses, taking a huge bite of donut. Crumbs tumble down the front of his own uniform as he continues to talk, not bothering to finish chewing. "Don't they teach you manners at that charm school of yours?"

Shaw grits her teeth, and suppresses the urge to throw him off the roof herself. " _Lionel_... could you _please_ tell me what the hell you're doing here, at my stakeout, before I make sure that's the last solid food you have for a while..."

Fusco chuckles, popping the last bite into his mouth and wiping his hands on his shirt. "See, a few manners won't kill ya. And _your_ stakeout? Not by a long shot, Toots. You really think D.E.B.S would be the only ones interested when one of history’s Most Wanted Looney Tunes suddenly comes out of the woodwork again? Not a chance, look," He points down through the skylight into the restaurant. "There must be a dozen of 'em- FBI, CIA, MI-6...whole mixed bag. And that's not including me and my C.A.L.S boys..."

Shaw follows Fusco’s gaze and sees them too. She rolls her eyes. _Amateurs_. They’re disguised as waiters and customers alike but Shaw can spot them in a second; each giving himself away in a million tiny mannerisms and tells that all scream _'professional stick-up-their-ass government agent'_.

She turns her attention back to Fusco, who has retrieved another donut from a box behind him, and who most definitely does not reek of anything remotely professional. "And somehow I'm still stuck with you."

Fusco smirks down at her, "I'm not exactly thrilled with this neither but we can jabber all day or we can get to work. Your choice..."

Shaw scowls up at him before reaching out and swiping the donut out of his hand. She takes a big bite, smirking, before moving aside to start setting up her equipment.

 

*_*_*_*_*

 

“You know, my stomach's really not feeling well... maybe we should reschedule."

"Nope, that's not going to cut it."

Root and Hanna sit in the dark colored sedan, just outside the restaurant. They’d arrived just over 20 minutes ago, but Root is stalling.

"Well, I just found out that my Great-Aunt Mildred is really sick, so I should probably-"

"-Dude, you don't have a Great Aunt. You don’t even have a Just-Okay Aunt..." Hanna sighs.

"I'm allergic to restaurants?"

"Nice try."

“I left the stove on?”

“You don’t know how to cook and you don’t even have a stove... Which you’d _know_ if you cooked.”

“Oh. Right.” Root sighs. “Jokes aside though, my stomach really isn’t feeling too great...”

“Is it a tight, kinda twisting feeling?”

“Yes! Exactly!”

“Yeah, that’s called nerves. Get over it.” Hanna deadpans, before reaching over and pinching Root’s arm.

“Ow! Don’t pinch me!” Root yelps, retaliating by slapping Hanna’s bicep.

“Ouch! You jerk!” Hanna shrieks, shoving Root’s shoulder hard.

Root shoves back and the two friends launch into a battle of pokes and shoves- roughhousing as much as the car’s tiny interior would allow. Root manages to loop an arm around, getting Hanna in a messy headlock, and it might of ended there, except Hanna’s fingers meet Root’s ribs and begin tickling her mercilessly. Root is almost instantly incapacitated with laughter eventually screaming, “Alright! Alright! I give- you monster!”

Hanna withdraws her hands, victorious, as Root tries to catch her breath. “You know, most supervillains would’ve just had you killed by now...”

“Well most supervillains don’t have their childhood best friend as their second in command, so...” Hanna shrugs.

Root flips down the mirror to try and fix her appearance. “Geez, you’d think you’d want to keep me looking a little less disheveled. I am trying to make an good first impression, right?”

“Oh please,” the older girl rolls her eyes. “You look fine.”

Root finishes smoothing out her rumpled shirt, before taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She stares at the ceiling, and mumbles, “How is it I can bring whole governments to their knees but I can’t seem to go on one stupid blind date?”

“Love is harder than crime.”

Root turns her gaze towards her friend once more. “That might be the single cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”

Hanna shrugs again, “It’s the truth. Now, enough stalling- get in there, you idiot!”

Root grins, once more before finally getting out of the car and moving towards the restaurant.

 

*_*_*_*

 

“Target spotted. She’s entering the building now. Shaw, let us know when you have eyes on...”

Shaw’s com crackles to life as Joss’ voice rings over. She moves to the skylight and peers through her binoculars, searching the crowd. She feels Fusco’s presence at her side, probably getting his own heads up from his C.A.L.S team as well.

Several other patrons pass in and out before Shaw spots her, and when she does her mouth inexplicably goes dry.

The small, grainy, black and white photo Control showed the team early- one of the only photos in existence – really failed to do the hacker justice.

In real life, Root had... _presence_. For lack of a better word.

Tonight, she wore a black leather jacket and black skinny jeans, both in stark contrast to her pale skin and wavy brown hair. It was a look that exuded easy confidence. And power. It was balanced though, by the graceful poise of her walk and the soft, easy expression on her face- a far cry from the haughty, cruel smirk in the photo.

Shaw could see how people could be charmed by her.

“Shaw, what the hell are you doing? Do you have eyes on her yet or not?”

Martine’s brash voice all but slaps her over the com, and Shaw represses a growl of frustration (whether at Martine or herself, she doesn’t bother to parse out) before replying. “Yeah, I got her.”

Shaw lowers her binoculars, and shoves Lionel out of the way so she can retrieve the long-range listening equipment out of the case.

“Geez, is that the TS-500?” He says, gesturing to the equipment in Shaw’s hands. “Can’t believe you guys get the new models. I’m stuck eyes-only tonight...”

Shaw ignores Fusco completely as she squeezes past him again, reclaiming her own spot before dawning headphones.

“You know, just because you’re _‘The Perfect Score’_ or god’s gift to D.E.B.S or whatever doesn’t give ya license to shit on the rest of us mere mortals. ‘Cause news flash kid- you’re not the center of the goddamn universe.” He huffs.

Shaw rolls her eyes, but doesn’t comment. She does, however, pass the box of donuts towards Fusco again, though doesn’t bother looking at him when he takes it.

“Thanks,” he grumbles.

“Whatever,” she intones, attention focused on the brunette below.

 

*_*_*_*_*

 

“Oksana?” Root poses the question at the tall, blonde, severe looking woman seated at the table before her.

“Da. And you muzt be za Root.” She gestures to the table. “Pleez. Zeet.”

Root smiles and takes her seat across the table. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It iz no problem, I vas early.”

“Great.” Root says, nodding at her date. Oksana nods back and after a minute of silent, awkward nodding at each other like bobble heads, the waiter approaches.

“Are you ladies ready to order?” He asks.

“Oh, thank god. I mean _yes_. Yes. I’ll um...I’ll have...” Root frantically flips through the menu, determined to pick something, _anything_ , because the faster she does, the faster she can eat, pay and leave this insanity behind. Unfortunately it appeared everything on the menu was in French.

 _That’s what I get for letting Hanna pick the restaurant,_ Root thinks. “Uh, I’ll just have a salad. And some wine. A bottle of wine- Do you like wine?” She directs the last question to her date.

“Vodka. Neat. And zee slow-roast cheeken pleez,” The blonde says, addressing the waiter.

“Right-o.” Root mumbles to herself, before looking up again and addressing her date. “Sooo... _assassin_. That’s interesting work. How did get into the biz?”

“Iz a very funny. I vuz looking vor verk. Zee store keeper said he not hiring, but said he vud pay for someone to keel heez brother. I need da money and za rest iz Heestory...” She shrugs. “It iz jast to pay billz. My true passion iz singing! I hope to be favmos Russian pupstar soomday.”

Root pauses a moment, waiting for the punchline, but Oksana just continues to smile. “Oh- you’re serious. Uh, then, that’s great! I guess...”

The waiter is back with their drinks and the glass barely touches the table before Root grabs it and takes a huge gulp- anticipating that the next hour or so will most definitely need some mental lubrication. The wine, however, turns out to be a bit more _robust_ than she expects and she ends up coughing, choking it down.

“Ahre vou O.K?” The Russian asks, reaching forward to place her hand over Root’s, in an attempt to comfort.

Root’s coughing peeters out as she removes said hand, using it to take a gulp of water from the glass on the table. “No, I just...” and a thought occurs to her. “I just- haven’t been feeling well today. I really think I might be coming down with something...

 

*_*_*_*_*

 

30 feet above, Fusco pokes Shaw in the shoulder, causing the D.E.B.S agent to break her concentration.

“What?” Shaw huffs, lifting one side of the headset off to hear him.

“What are they saying?”

“You can’t be serious.” Shaw rolls her eyes. “Get your own equipment _Lionel_...” She moves to readjust the earphones again but Lionel grabs her arm to stop her.

Shaw swats him off roughly. “What the hell are you-“

“-Will you drop the Dark Knight, brooding, loner _bullshit_ for a second, please? We’re supposed to be _partners._ That’s the whole point of the friggin’ Merger, right? So I’d appreciate it, if you’d throw me a bone here. Tell me what they're saying, or even just let me listen for a few minutes so I have something to bring back to HQ. That’s all I’m asking.”

“We are not _partners_ ,” Shaw spits out the last word, like it disgusts her.

He reaches to grab for the equipment once more and she smacks his arm harder this time. “Will rip your arm right off, I swear to god...”

“Well stop being such a control freak and just give it to me,” He growls, the redness in his face increasing with his rising frustration. He reaches out to grab it but Shaw stands and paces back a step.

“ _Lionel_...” she warns, as he stands as well, facing her. “Don’t be an idiot...”

 

*_*_*_*_*

 

“Yoo zay yoo veel zick?”

“Yeah you know, my stomach was bothering me earlier so-“

“Are yoo blowink me ovff?” Oksana yelps, looking like she might actually cry.

Root’s eyes go wide, “Oh shit- no! I’m not! My stomach really does hurt and-“

“Deed I do zomthnk wrong?!?! Ahm I not- not-“ The Russian assassin fights back tears, searching for her words, “-not good-loookingk enouv?”

“No, no that’s not it at all!” Root’s starting to panic. She glances around nervously as people are starting to stare.

 

*_*_*_*_*

 

“If you just hand it over, we won’t have to do this the hard way...” Fusco begins as he starts moving slowly towards Shaw.

“As much as I’d love to see what your sad version of ‘the hard way’ entails, I have actual work to do.”

Fusco makes a lunge for the equipment in Shaw’s hands but she moves and he only gets a fist full of her coat. He yanks it, but while it brings him closer to the equipment in her hands, it brings her fists closer to him as well. Shaw punches him in the gut and he doubles over, but manages to get one hand up and yanks the headset off her head.

Shaw tries to wrestle it away from him, attempting to wrap the taller agent in a headlock but Fusco just stands up, leaving Shaw to dangle a half a foot off the ground- hanging off of him.

“LET! IT! GO!”

“NOT ON YOUR LIFE SHORTY!”

Shaw kicks her leg around the taller agent, attempting to knock the equipment out of his hands, but she misses and her grip slips, and she starts to fall. She grabs a handful of the back of his shirt as she goes down, pulling him off balance as well. He trips backwards and both of them come crashing down on top of the skylight.

There’s a sickening crunch and the glass spider-webs, threatening shatter completely under the weight of them. Both agents hold their breath.

Shaw is first to speak, her words slow and measured, through her clenched jaw. “Listen... I’m going to get up... slowly... Do me a favor and _don’t move_... If you can manage, for one MOMENT, to contain your idiocy, I’ll help you up too...okay?”

Fusco nods, and Shaw can see his throat move as he swallows a huge nervous gulp of air.

She begins to move- very slowly- and manages to lift herself off Fusco and moves off the glass. She turns around, offering her hand and, with his help, they both make it off the skylight.

Back on the solid roof top, both agents sigh with relief.

“Whew! That was a close one, eh partner?” He playfully socks Shaw in the arm.

Shaw’s about to reply when a sound from the skylight draws both their attention. They look over and there, on top of the now creaking glass, is the headset.

They launch themselves toward it but they’re just not fast enough. Shaw gapes as the skylight panel gives way and glass- along with the headset- rain down on the restaurant below.

 

*_*_*_*_*

 

Root’s body reacts before her brain can even process what’s happening. The explosion of glass sends her and Oksana diving underneath the table as glass and debris rains down over them.

“What the hell!” Shoot shouts, over the avalanche of shards and somewhere in the back of her mind she notes that date is screaming something as well. Probably the equivalent in Russian.

After a moment, it seems the action is over. Root re-emerges assessing her now covered table. It’s mostly glass, but then, in the middle, she sees a headset...

 

*_*_*_*_*

 

Shaw and Fusco reach the skylight and look down just in time to see Root’s face snap up and catch sight of them.

“OH SHIT-"

“MOTHERFU-“

Both agents reach for their guns, as all hell breaks loose.

 

*_*_*_*_*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our two favorite ladies will meet next chapter, guns blazing, I promise. Also, I appologize for the mangling of both faked-Russian accented English, and regular English as well. : )


End file.
